This is a story I am currently working on. For now...here is a preview piece (that is also the beginning). Enjoy!
The night was quite chilly. Tabitha did not notice, even though she was in beggar's rags. She was too frightened to take notice of the cold. She glanced behind her in fear. The stories she heard were true.
Suddenly, Tabitha bumped into a man in a black overcoat with a black top hat and wearing dark grey trousers.
She did not observe his clothing at the time, as she backed away, or tried to. The man had a hold of her shoulders.
"I say, steady on there, Miss!" stated the gentleman, but Tabitha hardly heard him.
She kicked the man in the shins, making him let go of her. Tabitha heard shouting behind her but she kept running. Ducking into a side-alley, Tabitha stopped as she reached a dead end. A shadow loomed over the nine-year-old girl. Turning around, gasping in short but heavy breaths, Tabitha fainted from fright, believing her persuer had caught up with her at last.
(if people like this and want more, please tell me here.)
Mods Can I ask how this made in to Introductions and Recruitment
I thought there was no off-topic boards
Not to sound rude but this is for Introductions and Recruitment not story telling. Maybe the mods could start a Writers corner Sub-Forum because I have seen some great Fan-Scrips and Story's but this isn't the place for them. I would even recommend Events and Tourney Forum over this since some people really want a guild and there post gets pushed down every time this is bumped or updated.
That's right folks! It's back! DARTHO!
But, as this was Downtown London, this was not the case. There were not as many people as there was on Main Street and the ones that were there were too drunk to notice or just didn’t care about two orphans roaming the streets, no matter their condition.
If one thought the upper-streets of London was bad, obviously one had never been to Downtown London. The area was filled with the aura of death and decay, nobody travelled here unless they were running from something or someone. The population was that of drunken bums and degenerates that were most likely on the wrong side of the law. The only decent folk were the ones whom were half-mad or the lowliest of the low. They all ended up in the same place, Downtown London.
Tabitha and Ben had never ventured into this area of London before and the only person whom they knew had been was The Illustrator. But he was hardly likely to be any help to them at the moment.
Coming from the alleyway, Tabitha and Ben made their way slowly along the brick wall of a street corner. The dark cloud of smog seemed more ominous above them, no chance of sunlight at all today. In all her life, Tabitha had only seen the sun twice. Once, which she could not recall was when she was a baby and her father had held her in his arms at a window, the sunlight shining through the sheet of glass effortlessly.
(to be continued...)
The second time was with her surrogate father, The Illustrator, when she was starting to learn with him. They shared the moment to themselves, a rare moment in time when the other orphans were not there to see it because they were asleep. Tabitha had felt then that it was a special day, only for her and The Illustrator. And it was, for she learnt things that day what the others did not know. Things that, given the circumstances, had scared her slightly but also amazed her. That was a day she would never forget. And has not since…
“Oi! Watch where ya goin’!” shouted out a voice, which made Tabitha lose her train of thought as she and Ben collided into a person.
Backing away slightly, Tabitha glanced at the person. It was a man, slumped against the wall. He had coarse bristles across his face on his chin and upper lip. Dressed in what appeared to be a moth-eaten and grimy scarf wrapped round his neck and the typical brown rugged clothes of a bum. A squashed-up brown top hat sat upon a mess of untidy and gritty black hair. Tabitha could practically smell the whiskey emitting from the man’s breath as he talked. No ordinary bum…most likely a street drunkard whom slumped wherever he pleased to stop dizziness from too much drinking.
“Ahh, rotten kids! Away with ya!” yelled out the tirade of the drunken cur.
(to be continued...)
Hopefully you take this as constructive criticism and not abuse simon.
Unfortunately i didnt read all your story, just browsing over bits. What i gather is that you have a passion for story telling which is always a plus in my book but after having read just a couple of paragraphs of your work i can tell you are a complete amateur at literature. You have an imagination and a desire to communicate your ideas but lack knowledge on how to write.
If you are still at school then this is not a problem, but my advice is for you to take strong interests in your english classes, study technics